Memoirs of a Harlequin
by Anya Darling
Summary: The orign story of Harley Quinn,from her time at Arkham as Harleen Quinzel to her complete transformation into her notorious alias. Rated T for future chapters. Dark Knight Universe. I do not own Harley Quinn or Batman: Neither Comics nor Movies
1. Entering Arkham Asylum

**Memoirs of a Harlequin**

The Origin of Harley Quinn 

**Chapter One**: Arkham Asylum

The buzz of Gotham City engulfed Harleen Quinzel as she stepped off the city bus and onto the busy street. Her nerves pinched her stomach but her face hardly showed it. This was her first day as a hired psychologist at Arkham Asylum a position not easily filled. The long city bus stopped a block away from the ominous looming bridge that lead to the Asylum, and by all means it was not a secure part of the city, especially in high heels. There was another entrance into the Asylum, but it was only accessible by car off of a freeway. Now this bridge had not been used in over a decade as was blatantly obvious by its poor condition. The only people who used it were the homeless, who had become quite abundant in Gotham recently. And they used it often, since there were also a notorious set of stairs which lead to the under-bridge sanctuary. Keeping her pale blue eyes watchful, Harleen walked across the rickety bridge with confidence. Since it was still early in the morning, the path was surprisingly quite safe with no living thing around besides the seagulls. As her path became more familiar Harleen's concentration was now carefully set on the ground which was littered with dead bird parts, cigarettes, and the occasional contaminated bottle. As she exited from the protection of the bridge walls, the wind nipped her face like needles and she had to pull up her hood for protection.

_Arkham Asylum _the sign read on an intimidating dark metal arch, a beam of light scanned her as she neared, giving her shivers throughout her anatomy. A twenty foot fence accompanied her anxiety that circled the property giving it the essence that it was in a world of its own. Guard posts stood on each side and most likely around the back as well. She felt eyes watch her as she walked through the gates and into the Asylum grounds.

***

As Harleen entered the lobby she noticed the normal if not sterol appearance that it took and gave her a wave of comfort that expelled her experience with the exterior. Adding to that the comfort a cheerful looking receptionist put her quite at ease. The receptionist was not an obese woman but a plump woman, who couldn't be over the age of thirty seven. Her brown eyes were large and doe like but had their share of thin lines most likely brought on from her line of work. Her hair was a dark brown that had natural waves to it, and small white highlights that seemed very premature.

"Dr. Quinzel?" The receptionist greeted in a chipper voice as she peered over the papers in front of her.

"Yes." Harleen responded, fastening her hair up in a tight bun high on her skull. The receptionist, _Holly, _as her nametag informed scanned Harleen again then gave a charming smile then held out her hand.

"Holly Franco, Here's your paperwork, oh, and your tag," After shaking her hand Holly handed over the papers and helped pin the tag onto Harleen's vest.

"Dr. Crane is in a meeting right now, but I can show you to your office."

Screams echoed off the walls as soon as Holly led Harleen from the lobby and into the hallways. They seemed to grow louder as the two traveled through the heart of the asylum. As if seeing the uncomfortable look on Harleen's face, Holly spoke up.

"You'll get used to the noise." She reassured calmly.

"I remember my first day…" giving a loud laugh, Holly turned a corner sharply and opened a large steel-like door to reveal Harleen's new office. It was of good size, but sharp and was obnoxious to the eyes. White walls on hard pale wood floors were the first things to catch attention, there were books shelves made of the same pale wood, a desk that complimented both, a large black couch, and a large armchair. Knitting her eyebrows together softly, she took in the office and crossed her arms. It wasn't the most comfortable office she'd ever been in, and would defiantly need work.

Leaning over slightly Holly chimed in and broke Harleen away from her thoughts.

"I know it's a bit sterol, if you want to you know change some things around, I won't say a thing. Just don't tell _him_ I told you that." Giving a small wink, Holly left towards the door.

"I'll let him know you're here, he should be done in a few minutes." Giving a last nod Holly left Harleen to her new office to unpack her few supplies.

"Dr. Quinzel." A voice snapped Harleen from her paperwork. Giving a slight jump she looked up and met the pale eyes of Dr. Jonathan Crane. His horn rimmed glasses gave him a sharp intellectual air that swept right through her body.

"Dr. Quinzel." He spoke again, this time with a stronger tone in his voice as if he were addressing a child.

"Yes." Harleen gave a tight grin as he sat in front of her. Looking off for a moment, Dr. Crane sat his hands on her table then returned his gaze to her.

"I see Holly gave you your documents, don't let them comfort you. All new employees are on probation their first month."

"Why's that?" she asked, setting her papers aside.

"Some people just can't…handle our clientele. "He replied with a small grin. His eyes fluttered over her desk then back to her.

"I've already taken the liberty of scheduling your first." His tongue gave a soft flick on the roof of his mouth, his eyes moving over to a small clock.

"Good luck, Dr. Quinzel." He gave a small nod in her direction then got up to leave. Harleen watched him intently, she still felt a little stiff from his mannerisms, he was defiantly odd.

An attendant walked in a few minutes after Dr. Crane had left, bringing a cuffed patient with him. The patient couldn't have been older than twenty five, with dark greasy hair and darty eyes that seemed to travel around the room at a mile a minute. Sitting him down on the couch roughly, the attendant dropped his file on her desk then took his place behind the patient while he sat twitching nervously.

"Excuse me," Harleen gaped then chocked out a false laugh.

"Is this how you treat your patients here?"

"This one is a noted escapee." The attendant informed her, giving a tight grip to the patient's shoulder.

"And I wonder why." She retorted, standing up with the file.

"Un-cuff him…and please, if at all possible remove yourself from my office." She added this dryly with no illusion of an option, as he opened his mouth she took her stance standing her ground with a hip at ease and her head cocked to the side.

"It's against policy, Dr. Crane will-"

"I'll deal with Crane. But to make it easier on you, poor soul, would it be more convenient if you just stepped outside? There's a perfect view from the window." She couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, but the anger in her stomach was enough to keep her set pace.

"Fine." After un-cuffing the patient quickly he left the room and stood outside of the window his eyes burning holes in Harleen's skin. She gave a simple smile and closed the door. After taking her seat in the armchair, she skimmed his file then looked up at him pleasantly.

"I'm Doctor Quinzel," Harleen informed as she put on her thin oval glasses, he genuine smile still intact.

"Thomas Schiff isn't it?" she asked, taking out a pen.

"Yeyyyesss…" he stuttered, dark eyes scanning wildly over her. Beads of sweat trickled from his hairline as he broke his gaze on her and let them linger on the window.

"Don't worry about him, just look at me. Tell me how your days going today Thomas." Her order was soft and friendly.

"They're, they're trying to kill me…" he whispered seriously. _Paranoid Schizophrenic, _his file read in bold_._

"Thomas I highly doubt their trying to kill you." She comforted, laying a hand on his. He jumped slightly and stared at her in shock.

"Your new here aren't you?" he asked, keeping his hand under hers.

"My first day."

He only nodded, shook slightly, looked at the window and pulled his hand away from hers. She followed his gaze, and caught the eyes of Dr. Crane staring at her quizzically.

"Who was your doctor before me?" Harleen brought his attention back to her, making her voice smooth as to try and stop his tremors.

"D-Doctor Crane." He answered, her strategy clearly working as he kept his focus on her.

"Not the friendliest guy I've ever met." She grinned, and then added a small laugh to engage him further.

"Nnno, no." he agreed, joining in with her laugh awkwardly. They had a moment of silence before she continued.

"You can tell me anything you'd like Thomas, that's what I'm here for. I promise nothing you say will upset me." She added once she felt he was properly relaxed, nothing would be worse than having him fly off the handle and having Dr. Crane to answer to afterwards.

The rest of the hour went along well enough; there were certain subjects that would startle Thomas and send him into a small fit. Harleen learned quickly to jump into another topic when those situations came up. But overall Thomas seemed to have calmed a great deal, for his standards he was almost relaxed. That was until a beeper chimed and her office door was opened quickly, letting the attendant and Dr. Crane into the room.

"Have a nice night Thomas." Harleen gave a small wave, and directed a stern glance to the attendant who gently put on the cuffs and walked him out quickly. A few minutes passed until Dr. Crane broke the silence.

"Your methods amuse me." He had been so quiet Harleen almost forgot he was there.

"Excuse me?" she asked, setting her oval glasses on the table gently.

"You act as if your friends with your patient."

"I try to have a close relationship with them yes." She responded defensively.

"That's a horrible strategy Doctor." He commented bluntly, rubbing a spot off of his glasses.

"It seems to have more of an effect than yours; Thomas seemed almost petrified of you."

"He's a Paranoid Schizophrenic; doesn't that come with the territory?"

"And your strategy is what? To try and give him Stockholm syndrome? It doesn't seem to be working." Harleen felt her cheeks blush a deep shade of pink as she talked. She expected him to be angry or at least agitated, but it seemed to have quite the opposite effect. He seemed intrigued. Like a professor feeding off a student's feeble attempts to prove him wrong.

"Unfortunately for me, I do not possess the reassuring qualities of the fairer sex Dr. Quinzel. I'm certain the cut of your blouse had no effect on the patient what's so ever." Dr. Crane gave an arrogant grin then took a few more files out of his case, placed them on her desk, and gave them a small tap.

"So far so good Doctor, I hope you keep proving your reputation correct." With that he walked toward the door, and then paused.

"If you would like a ride home tonight I would be more than willing. It's raining quite heavily now."

"Thanks Dr. Crane, but Holly already offered."

"Very well then, I'll see you in the morning. I have another meeting to attend to." Dr. Crane flashed a knowing grin, then turned his back to her and left the room. Harleen leaned forward slightly as if a string had been tied between them. Giving a shake to snap her back to reality, she stacked her files and called Holly to schedule that lift.


	2. The Escapee

**Chapter Two:**

The month of probation had finally passed, and Harleen became quite accustom to her new career at Arkham Asylum. She was now fully entrusted by Dr. Crane with over twenty patients, and had memorized everything there was to know about them. They're names, families, medical histories, all the way down to their tiniest un-comforts.

In her apartment, Harleen sat with her legs kriss crossed on an overstuffed armchair, picking at her Chinese takeout. Suddenly as she picked up her chopsticks for another bite, a loud roar screamed through her windows and sent vibrations that shook her whole apartment. Practically throwing her food to the ground, Harleen grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

"_What we are now seeing are reports of a rouge vigilante sweeping across Gotham City, in what appears to be a large, black, tank like vehicle. No one has come forward with the identity, but as the rumors keep spreading they keep getting stranger, and stranger. We now go to our very own Lucia Davis for details."_

"_Thank you John, from what we've heard down here this vigilante has taken the guise of a bat and has begun fighting crime here in our very own Gotham city. Rumors started about a week ago when who we're now referring to as __**The Batman**__ started his fight against crime. All I can say is he gets results, and slowly but surely our crime rates are going down. Back to you John."_

As the phone began to ring, Harleen gave a muffled yelp and turned the television on mute. Watching as a silhouette of _The Batman _flew across her television screen; she picked it up and slowly put it to her ear.

"Harleen Quinzel." She answered softly, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

"Harleen, it's Holly, we have a rather nasty situation down here. Dr. Crane has requested you get ready to come to Arkham ASAP!"

"What's going on Holly?" Harleen held the cord in her hand, and pulled it nervously.

"A patient just went ballistic, Rune Davis. He suffers from severe Schizophrenia, but now seems to have an extreme case of Mania. Possibly brought on from medication, we're not sure. No one seems to be able to sedate him or find him for that matter! It's mass hysteria! All of the doors are sealed, thank god, but no one has been able to secure him."

"I'll be right there; I just need to call a cab."

"Won't be necessary, Dr. Crane is already on his way."

"But…doesn't he need to be there?"

"He insisted."

"Alright, well I'll be there in a second."

As Harleen hung up the phone she gave a loud curse and pulled herself back into her work clothes. Looking out the window, she thought she could almost hear the Arkham Alarm system screaming in the night. Pulling on her coat, and pinning up her hair quickly she pulled open the door and was met face to face with Dr. Jonathan Crane. Harleen felt as if her heart had leaped out of her mouth, she had never been startled so many times in one night. He opened his mouth as if to speak while she finished locking the door.

"No time we have to go." Pulling his sleeve, she led the way down the stairways and into his car.

***

While they were speeding down the streets, she leaned over suddenly, a question burning in her mind.

"They needed you there, why did you come for me?"

"I have to bring you round the back of Arkham, the front is on lockdown and only I have the keys to the back. It's the most secure and isolated way in, and it's the closest location to where we believe the patient is." Harleen nodded, it made perfect sense...of course. He always had to be so damn direct, logical, and downright confident. She couldn't believe that she had almost wanted him to come get her for the sheer fact that he had wanted to. Like some childish Prince Charming, pulling up in a black BMW. Slapping herself for a thought like that, Harleen brought herself back to the reality. Yes, Dr. Crane was physically attractive. But he was also a narcissistic sociopath, and quite frankly a jerk. Who treated his patients like statistics and co-workers like feebleminded dolts.

Cruising at over eighty miles per hour, Dr. Crane flinched as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

"Can you get that, I ordered Holly to give me constant updates."

"Sure." Reaching into his pant's pocket, Harleen took out the phone and flipped it open, bracing herself at the same time as he took a rather sharp corner.

"_**Code 484 into effect. All patient paddocks in code orange. Front lobby systems control is maintained." **_ Harleen read the text aloud to her boss, her brows creasing at the jargon.

He gave no comment as he spun the car into a parked position in front of the back entrance of Arkham. Pulling out the keys he exited the car. Harleen followed closely as he punched in a key pad by the door and revealed a new set of keys. The door opened slowly, exposing only pitch dark. Harleen's stomach dropped to the floor and her throat closed up tight. She had always been afraid of the dark, even now in her mid twenties. Looking around she grasped tightly onto Dr. Crane's sleeve. Not out of any romantic ideals, but out of sheer terror. Sweat beaded her forehead, as she kept her eyes trapped on the only source of light. An opened doorway that illuminated nothing but the stairs that led up to it. It was a miracle in its self that Dr. Crane knew where he was going in this dark.

"What is this place?" she asked, her voice actually trembling from the rush of adrenaline caught in her throat.

"Just an empty garage." He answered quickly as he took her hand. It clenched his in a sweaty mess, but she never noticed her eyes were still locked on the door.

After carefully, but quickly, climbing the stairs Harleen rejoiced silently in the light then immediately let go of his hand. Embarrassed that she had let herself become that petrified.

"Scotophobia is very common," Dr. Crane told her as they marched quickly down the hallways of the Asylum.

"For five year olds." He added with a dry smile.

Gritting her teeth, Harleen followed him into a supply office. It was small, with cupboards full with syringes and medicines over a sink and counterpace. Next to that were shelves filled with strait jackets and first aid kits.

"Take a syringe and fill it with 4 cc's of sedative, I've instructed the other attendants to do the same. You take the east side of the Asylum, if you see him contact one of us immediately we will be right there. We're each a hallway away from each other on each perimeter." Capping his syringe, Dr. Crane looked over at Harleen and paused.

"Can you handle this by yourself? I can come with you. " This time his voice wasn't filled to the brim with presumption. He seemed almost genuinely concerned.

"I can handle myself, Dr. Crane, if I need you I'll call." With a subtle nod Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment then slowly walked out of the room and disappeared down the hall. Leaving Harleen with the notorious East Ward.


	3. The East Ward

**Chapter Three: ****The East Ward:**

Slipping the syringe into her coat pocket, Harleen stepped out into the hallway and advanced toward the East Ward. The Ward was notorious for its high security patients, in most ways it was almost safer to tread in this ward than the others. Camera's above noted her slowly as she walked by, but they weren't the only eyes watching. The feeling of the other's behind their impenetrable doors made her skin crawl. Their cell windows were dark, but the name plates shone brightly.

_**Jones, Waylon**_

_**Tetch, Jervis**_

_**Wesker, Arnold**_

_**Zsasz, Victor**_

The last name made her heart race, causing her feet to escalate to a brisk walk. She had a session with him only once, that time she was accompanied by two attendants carrying weapons and Dr. Crane. Zsasz's eyes seemed blacker than coal, and as they stared into her she believed instantly that they could cut sharper than his infamous blade ever could. Unfortunately, those eyes weren't the half of it. The scars that were visible on his body looked unmistakably like tally marks, and it was safe to presume that they covered his entire body. The story among the other doctors was that each tally was a symbol for a person he had killed. In this situation, the only comfort Harleen had was that Mr. Zsasz wasn't the escapee.

Two of the other names beside Zsasz, Harleen had met before as well. Jervis Tetch was a neurological genius by many regards, but suffered from Paranoid Schizophrenia and Manic Depression. He was most commonly known around the hospital for his keen interest in Lewis Carroll, and was most referred to as "The Mad Hatter". Arnold Wesker was now an ex-mob boss, who had a severe case of Dissociative Identity Disorder. His prized companion and extension of his disorder was a ventriloquist doll, known to him lovingly as "Scarface".

The last name, Waylon Jones, was a complete mystery. No one of the staff Harleen had talked to seemed to know what he looked like, because he never left his room. It was rumored his was hideously deformed, some questioned if he was human at all.

Once she passed the cells, Harleen turned the corner but jumped back when she heard a loud bang. It sounded like a desk being knocked over, or a drawer being pulled out. Keeping her body close to the wall, she peered over cautiously. The sound seemed to be coming from the first office on the left, Dr. Blakloch's. She walked toward it slowly, her phone in hand, body still tight against the wall. Taking a glance through the open door, she immediately saw Rune Davis. He had indeed knocked over the desk and was searching franticly for something. Pulling at his hair, Harleen saw drops of blood trickling down his drenched nubby fingers and onto his scalp. He looked like he had scratched the nails off on a wall. But it was his eye's that startled her the most. In all of her years of practice with patients at school, and now her month of experience in Arkham she had never seen such terrified eyes. They were extremely dilated and bloodshot like they hadn't been closed for nights and under the eyes where almost grey in the contrast of his bleached white skin. As she took in the details of his face, he jerked up suddenly, those eyes connecting with hers. Then as soon as it registered in his mind, his lips curled down and his mouth opened into a blood curdling scream.

"No! No please no!!" Backing himself in a corner, he grabbed a desk leg that had broken off when he had tossed it.

"Rune, its Harleen…Dr. Quinzel. I talked to you a few hours ago remember?"

He shook his head violently, a white knuckled grip shaking the desk leg as he did so.

"What are you so afraid of Rune? There's nothing to be scared of here, once you're back in your room everything will be fine. I promise. Just put down that piece of wood and we'll get a cup of coffee, okay?" she tried her best to relax her shoulders as she spoke smoothly to him.

"No, no he's still here…the mask! The mask!" Rune began gnawing at his lip so hard it bled.

"What mask Rune?" Harleen moved closer, but slowly so not to frighten him more.

"Scarecrow…mask!" Moving a finger to a button on her phone, Harleen dialed Dr. Crane's number. Hopefully he would hear and understand. She couldn't risk talking on the phone with Rune in this condition.

"A Scarecrow?" Harleen watched him closely; she couldn't understand where this had come from. She had talked to him only hours ago, and he had seemed better than usual, it had been one of his good days. Then a horrible thought crossed her mind and froze her instantly.

"Dr. Quinzel!" The voice behind her made her jump, startling Rune, which caused him to hit the piece of wood across her face. Falling to the ground, she held her hand to her face. Warm liquid touched her hand instantly along with a cold stinging as her brain registered the pain. Before she could get up, Harleen was dragged away by one of the attendants as Dr. Crane and four more men entered the room. Disorientated, Harleen's vision twisted the world around her. But she could hear the piercing screaming of Rune clear as day.

"Rune!" She tried to get up but the attendant held her back down. The pain heightened as she yelled out, her cheek felt as though it was splitting open.

"They're taking care of him Dr. Quinzel." His voice was more controlling than comforting. Confined to the ground as the attendant placed stitching tape on her split cheek, she watched with renewed eyes. A needle went into Rune's neck as he thrashed against four men and instantly he was down. Once the final tape and bandage was in place, Harleen pushed the attendant gently aside and stood up, her legs nearly giving out.

"I want him in the medical ward. A new medication must have given him a bad reaction. I want it pumped out, if that can't be done make sure he's sedated until it comes out." Harleen ordered leaning against the doorframe as the attendants placed him on a stretcher, bound by a straight jacket.

"He's not going to live through the night Dr. Quinzel." Dr. Crane informed her formally, tossing away the used needle.

"He just had a bad reaction; he'll be fine with medical attention." Placing a hand on her cheek, she winced, and decided to speak slower.

"His brain is too far gone. The mind can only take so much, and as you well know the body can't live without the mind." He watched the men carry Rune out of the office, and then returned his eyes to Harleen as she spoke.

"I did this to him. I gave him that new medication. It was still in a trial status, but it was gaining such good results." Harleen was talking to herself now, rather than Dr. Crane. He surveyed her closely after she finished.

"You couldn't have known it wasn't your fault." Harleen couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. But he was right, it wasn't her fault intentionally. But directly, it was without a doubt her fault and that's what stung.

"I'm staying here." Harleen told him stiffly, trying to hold back the guilt burning in her throat.

"I'll be in my office. Can you have the medical staff alert me of any condition change?"

He nodded, turning off the lights to the office as he closed to door.

As she lay down on the couch in her office, Harleen looked up at the ceiling, then at the phone next to her side. Hours seemed to pass like minutes as her eyes grew heavy watching the clock. Hands moving involuntarily grabbed a pillow and hugged it under her uninjured cheek, letting her eyes finally close in an exhausted sleep.

The door opened silently a half hour later, revealing Dr. Crane. He watched Harleen sleep and contemplated, then took a blanket off an armchair and placed it over her gently. Making himself comfortable, he sat by her head and leaned his head back watching her shoulder's rise and fall gently.

"Is he alive?" Harleen's eyes were still closed, subconsciously nuzzling her head on the pillow.

"He had a seizure about an hour ago, he died not long after." Dr. Crane answered, his voice was soft but it lacked empathy. Her eyelids clenched together tight, as she took a long breath. Studying her closely, Dr. Crane observed the silence then spoke.

"You were his psychiatrist, you of course read his file, and you still mourn him?"

"Of course, I believe everyone has the ability and the right to become sane again. Physicians don't turn away patients because they're sick, neither should we." Harleen sat up slowly as she said this, focusing her eyes on his. A sharp pain let itself be known on her face after she spoke, reminding her of the injury she had obtained.

"You're good at your job Dr. Quinzel, I would never say otherwise. But your methods will destroy you in the end. No one can give to these people without just as much being taken away. It will drive you mad."

"Then I'll be mad. But I won't let Rune Davis' death be without purpose, I'm going to find what went wrong with that medication, and why it affected him the way it did."

Dr. Crane stiffened, looked down in thought for a few seconds, and then cast his eyes back up.

"If that's what your plan of action is I won't stop you. But I'm telling you now, you should let it be. There I've given my fair share of wisdom." With that he stood up and left towards the door. Hesitating for a second he turned back around.

"Your wound has reopened; you might want to get it checked." Harleen cursed as the door shut behind him, and placed a hand gingerly to her face. Cursing as she got up slowly, she walked out of the room and towards the medical ward, gaining more than a few stares as she did so.


	4. Pretty Little Flower

**Chapter Four: ****Pretty Little Flower**

A month past with no help from the studies of the medication, or the autopsy, which had led to more questions than answers. The toxin report taken from Rune's body indicated a high dosage of a rare fear inducing hallucinogen found in Asia. After nights of research on this plant, Harleen learned only that it was a very rare blue double-bloomed poppy that grew somewhere near Bhutan. The question was how did it end up in Rune? The Medication she had administered didn't have a single trace of the hallucinogen in it.

After taking a sip of her coffee, Harleen slammed down her laptop and massaged her temples. She had sworn to find what had killed Rune, but now that she finally had, the road hit a dead end.

"Dr. Quinzel?" It was Crane. For the past few weeks, he had been artfully trying to persuade her to stop her investigation, even going so far as inviting her to work with him on his own case. The infamous Carmine Falcone case. Unfortunately for him she was already far too invested in her own.

"Yes?" she answered tiredly, looking up from her hands.

"It's seven o'clock and you've been working sixteen hour shifts for the past month. As your superior I am telling you to take some time off."His tone was neither empathetic nor warm, though his face tried to be.

Harleen did not respond. Instead she took out a small tube of ointment and gingerly rubbed a pearl sized amount on the small scar atop her cheek. His eyes contemplated her attentively as he stood in front of her desk.

"Have you come across any indicators of foul play?" He asked, in the way only Jonathan Crane ever could.

"No, I haven't found a thing." Harleen replied. Until she could find any more details about the mysterious hallucinogen, Harleen decided it would be best to leave Dr. Crane out of it. He would only tell her it was a mistake in the toxin studies anyway, a trivial mistake for a novice physiatrist. His shoulders seemed to relax slightly as she said this. Then after pausing for a few seconds he took a seat in front of her.

"Go home Harleen. Stop this tedious quest; it was never yours in the first place. He was sick; you proscribed a perfectly fine medication. As he had no records of any allergies his death was not your fault, do not let this guilt obsess you. I would rather not have to examine one of my own doctors." A hidden smile spread on his lips after he said this, Harleen only caught it for a moment then it disappeared. Awkwardly, he placed a hand on hers, and gave it a small squeeze. "Get some sleep, and take a mental health day." He added, and then removed his hand quickly.

"Dr. Crane?" It was Holly; she stood by the door, tapping the frame nervously. "Rachel Dawes is waiting for you on the first floor."

"I'll be down in a moment." He answered as he stood from the chair. "Take in what I've said Dr. Quinzel. Leave now." After he left, Harleen gave an exasperated sigh and ran her hands through her scalp.

"I guess I could continue at home anyway." She said to herself quietly, her fingers twisting a strand of blonde hair. After picking up a stack of late paperwork, she left the room and continued down the hall to Dr. Crane's office. Opening the door, she walked in slowly but instantly dropped the heavy stack as soon as she reached his desk. On top was a small blue flower, sitting in a tiny white vase.

"The Poppy…" her voice was a whisper, but it felt like a scream from the silence of the room.

"A _very rare blue double-bloomed poppy, that grows somewhere near Bhutan."_

"It was Crane…but where was he-?" After trying to decipher a possible location for hiding a chemical as volatile as this hallucinogen, Harleen remembered the dark room in the basement level of the Asylum.

"_What is this place?"_

"_Just an empty garage."_

"The basement!" Running out of the room, Harleen skidded into the wall but kept going. While hitting the elevator button, she cursed loudly. It was locked. Turning around in frustration, her eyes locked on the window and she gave a startled whelp, a dark figure lingered, watching. _Batman._ Walking over to the window, she fumbled with the lock and opened it quickly.

"You know what's going on?" Harleen asked quietly, after looking behind herself.

"Yes." He answered gruffly; his eyes seemed to scan everything about the room at once while still locked on her.

"It's in the basement." Harleen said flatly, hoping he would catch her meaning. She couldn't read his expression, but she assumed he understood. "But the elevator's locked." She added taking another quick look behind her; at this point in time she didn't know who she could trust.

"I don't use elevators." He replied then vanished like smoke before she could utter a word.

"Wait! I…want to come with you…" Stamping her heel in frustration, Harleen ran towards the stairwell entrance and opened the door. In high heels she ran down the stairs, flight after flight, the only thing keeping her going was the adrenaline and the anger coursing through her body. Finally she reached the basement floor and pulled on the door handle franticly. Of course it was locked; the window latch above the door however, was not.

"Alright Harl, you were a gymnast, this should be no problem. I mean this is how you got your scholarship right?!" She tried to prep herself, but her mind was already in denial. Taking off her heals; she threw them through the window, but winced as they crashed to the ground. Regaining her composure, Harleen backed away from the door and took in a deep breath. After lifting her hands up with ease she ran towards the door, jumped, grabbed a hold of the frame, lifted herself up, and slipped through the window feet first. Smiling at her accomplishment after she landed, Harleen put her shoes back on and looked around the hallway. There seemed to be more doors than she remembered, luckily the loud noises of a fight seemed to be coming from one in particular. Pulling it open quickly she was met by a startling sight. The Batman grabbed a masked man, from Harleen's vantage point it looked like a burlap bag, torn in places to look like a face, a scarecrow face. A gasp left her lips as he pulled off the mask roughly, revealing Dr. Crane.

"_No, no he's still here! The mask! The mask!!"_

Batman held Dr. Crane by his hair, as he thrashed violently against the hold. Around them other men lay on the ground subdued by the Batman, in the factory purely dedicated to the production of the hallucinogen, the very factory that had been here right under her nose. A rush of emotions ran through Harleen so fast she couldn't seem to catch her breath. After a month of sleepless nights and a guilty conscious, it hadn't been her at all, but the man she had respected as a Doctor. The last man in the world she expected, or wanted to.

"Taste of your own medicine doctor?" Batman asked in his menacing voice, as he took Dr. Crane's wrist and sprayed the toxic fumes in his face. Harleen was silenced in utter shock, gripping the railing in front of her, her knuckles turned white. Opening her mouth she tried to yell out but couldn't, she tried to move but was paralyzed. The same look Rune Davis had on his face the night he died was the now the look that Dr. Crane wore now, his lower jaw being held in a tight grip by The Batman. An interrogation passed between them quickly, Dr. Crane shivering in The Dark Knight's clutches.

But as soon as The Doctor's mind was utterly spent, and the last words were said between them The Batman threw him aside and sirens began bellowing out in the street. It was that moment when Harleen noticed a woman laying on top a table, Rachel Dawes. The Batman scooped her up gently then he turned his eyes to Harleen and gave a slight nod before he quickly departed. After a few moments she unglued her eyes from the scene around her and remembered the drugged Dr. Crane and ran over to him.

His eyes were clamped shut, and his skin was whiter than she had ever seen it. Placing two fingers on his neck she found a pulse, then pushed back his hair softly and placed a hand on his forehead. She was furious with him; inside she hated him for what he had done. But the doctor in her couldn't let that bias his treatment, no matter what he had done. Shaking her head, she placed a hand under his chin and ran her fingers over it gingerly, while the police filed in loudly shutting the place down.

"Welcome to the East Ward, _Scarecrow…_"


	5. Arkham Uncommited

**Chapter Five: **Arkham Uncommitted

Pulling the leather strap taunt, Harleen double checked Jonathan Crane's bindings then returned to her chair and took a sip of coffee. Her eyes watched him like a cat watches a bird, both eyes unblinking and concentrated. A guard stood in front of the door, even more statuesque in his pose than Harleen. Jim Gordon was also there, outside of the room, waiting for Crane to awaken. Surprisingly, he had been civil and actually very kind to Harleen considering the stress he was under.

_One of the few good cops left_. She thought sadly to herself, as she lifted the cup up to her mouth just so she could feel the warmth.

"…Scarecrow….Scarecrow…" Crane's lips moved, but his face seemed to hold no real animation. Placing down her cup, Harleen stood and walked over to him slowly.

"Dr. Crane?" He shook his head, as if repenting the name, then stared up at her eerily.

"_Scarecrow…"_ he repeated, flexing against his bindings. As his eyes danced around the room, Harleen saw them land on Gordon at the window.

"I'll be back in a moment." She told him quietly, knowing full well he probably wasn't listening to her anyway.

"Is he awake?" Gordon asked, a coffee cup steaming in his own hands.

"Yes, he's delirious though, so take it easy." Harleen warned, opening the door behind her to indicate he was free to come in. She partially shut the door behind him and took over the seat he had been sitting in. The sound came in through perfectly from the crack of the door as she did an examination of her own.

"What was the plan, Crane? How were you gonna get your toxin into the air?" Gordon asked playing with Crane's mask in his hands as he spoke.

"Scarecrow. Scarecrow." Crane's words repeated slowly as he looked off around the room, Gordon continued anyway.

"Who were you working for, Crane?" This time his tone was more persistent.

Jonathan Crane's face shook and his eyes opened wide.

"Oh, it's too late, you can't stop it now." His lips curled into a miniature smile, and his shoulders rose with excitement. Harleen stopped writing, and put her journal down. Jim Gordon at the same time stood with agitation and left, tossing the mask to the guard as he did so.

Harleen watched him leave, then returned to the room and stood in front of the new patient.

She had so many questions in her head, why would he do this? How could he do this? He was a respectable doctor, with no history of mental psychosis, nor history of trauma. He had been a good functioning member of society, and now…this?

"You should leave Dr. Quinzel…While you still can." Crane broke the silence and looked over towards her; his mouth had lost all that was left of its humor.

She turned her head towards the guard and gestured for him to leave; he did so with a nod but stood close behind the door.

"Arkham is the safest place in Gotham right now." She retorted, crossing her arms in front of herself. He shook his head slowly in reply, his bright blue eyes still locked on hers.

"It's the least safe place."

"If you won't tell Officer Gordon, then tell me." Harleen ordered taking a step closer to him.

"Jonathan! Tell me what's going to happen." Taking his face in her hands, she made him look at her. A crash and a loud groan came from behind, and Harleen spun her head around quickly her hands still latched around his face.

"It's too late…It's already begun. I'm sorry Dr. Quinzel, but I'm afraid your time here at Arkham had ended."

Two swat men entered the room, one carrying Crane's mask. The other grabbed up Harleen and slammed her against the wall. Her glasses flew off as her head smashed against the wall, but as soon as she recovered her vision she latched onto his arms with her nails she kicked him hard in the stomach. She was instantly dropped from the wall, but as soon as she lifted her head to get up, it was met by the butt end of a gun. Collapsed on the ground, she briefly saw the man she had kicked get up aggregately and the other man whisper manically before tossing The Scarecrow his mask,

"Time to play."

Reaching an arm out in front of her, Harleen opened her eyes painfully as she tried to sit up. Her head throbbed with each heartbeat, and with every movement she felt as if she were about to collapse. As she looked in front of her she let out a burst of curses, Crane was gone, his bindings strewn about on the chair in a heap. Crawling over to the chair, she leaned up against it, and pulled herself onto it carefully facing the back wall. Falling over it, she clung on and breathed out heavily trying to gain the will to stand.

"Get up Harleen." She ordered herself, placing her feet steadily on the floor.

"Get up!" Holding her arms in front of herself she stood and sighed deeply. The spinning of her sight had all but gone, and her legs weren't quite so unstable. Walking out the door, she leaned against the wall slightly but moved with determination. To her horror the hall's tight security doors were wide open, with no patients to be found. A cold sensation gripped her stomach and her throat.

"Not the East Ward." She mouthed in fear as her hobbled walk turned into a hobbled sprint. Tossing open the Eastern Ward's door, she stumbled in then froze. They were all open and empty just like the others. _**Waylon Jones, Jervis Tetch, Arnold Wesker, Victor Zsasz. **_They were all gone.

Making her way through the other hallway, she stopped at a supply room. There she grabbed a bag, stashed it with Syringes filled with tranquilizers, and placed it over her shoulder.

Taking the back way out of Arkham, Harleen tried not to look at the factory that had caused this mess, but the image still consumed her. If only she had paid more attention that night, if only she hadn't been so afraid. Maybe she could have stopped it…maybe. After making it past the back gates, she was met by a wave of screams. All of the Narrows was swarmed with people running for their lives, while individuals in orange ran for their freedom. The police tried to be everywhere at once, but at the numbers she saw Harleen wasn't comforted. Then just as she assumed the situation couldn't get any worse, loud crashes came from down the streets and kept coming closer. Poisonous fumes followed, as the sewer grates exploded off of the streets. Keeping her eyes out for them, Harleen picked up her pace as they exploded behind her, each one getting closer and closer to her heals. Tripping over a curb, she fell onto the street as a grate went off a few feet from her head. The gas quickly filled her lungs as she desperately tried to cover her face with her coat. But it was too late. Her vision became even more blurry than it had been before, with every person around her taking a different demonic shape. Trying to get a hold of her fear, Harleen picked herself up legs quivering from fear induced adrenaline as she did so. The screams escalated, piercing her ears like sirens. One in particular caught her by surprise, as a man on a horse stampeded by with his head letting off electrical lights. Soon after passing her, he fell off the horse and heavily onto the street.

Prying herself off of the wall, Harleen limped over to his twitching form. Carefully, she took off her coat and wrapped it around her hand to swat the tazer extension off of his face. It worked, but not without giving her a shock as well. What was left in front of her was a smoking burlap mask, the scarecrow mask. It was deformed like all faces around her, with tiny insects and other critters crawling out of the slit like mouth. Pulling it off quickly, she was relieved to see Crane's face even if it was warped, hollowed, and pale. At least it was unconscious. As she looked around, everything became even more twisted. The more time she spent with this poison in her system, the closer she became to permanent insanity and worse, death. Pushing herself onto her knees, she began to stand but was caught off guard by a knife to her cheek.

"Going anywhere sweet cheeks?" Victor Zsasz's mouth whispered heatedly by her ear, as his knife pressed deeper into the scar on her face. Pulling her up, he held one arm around her waist tightly all the while keeping his other hand busy with the knife. Harleen couldn't answer him; she could feel his eyes on her as much as his blade. Remembering what they looked like during her session with him, she shivered and tried carefully to reach into her bag for a syringe. Stepping on his foot with all of her strength, he let go for a moment giving her enough time to twist her body around and scorpion kick him in the skull with a needle in hand. An enraged yell left his lips as he stumbled backwards, but quickly turned to an amused smirk as he wiped blood off of his cheek. Holding the syringe like a knife, she backed away from him slowly.

"Ah, ah, ah! I don't think that will be necessary Dr. Quinzel." Grabbing her throat quickly he cut across her hand causing her to cry out in pain and drop the needle. As he squeezed her whole body closer, with one arm across her back, she could feel her body begin to groan from the pressure. She couldn't move. Then once he returned his knife to her cheek, he smoothed it along her jaw, then down her neck, and onto her back.

"The human body is an extraordinary thing Dr. Quinzel, especially yours. With one jerk I could stab this blade into your spine, and paralyze your entire body. I've done it before, I've done everything before. "As he breathed into her ear, she could feel his blade quiver as it punctured through her shirt. It was then that more Arkham escapees began to file around like zombies; they're faces equally as horrifying and grotesque to her eyes. Even Victor seemed to feel they're stares.

"I wish I could take more time with you, you actually can put up a fight." He told her with mock regret. "But there is more to be done here. One doesn't stick to one ride at the fair; one wants to ride the whole park." Removing his blade from her back, Victor stabbed her deeply in the abdomen, then pulled out his knife and wiped it on his pant leg as he kicked her to the ground. Gasping and screaming at the same time, Harleen gritted her teeth as she tried to hold onto her stomach. Before the world around her began to fade into darkness, Harleen saw him give one last grimy grin and disappear with the rest of the mob deep into the alleys of the Narrows.


	6. Gotham's Guardian Angel

Chapter Six:Gotham's Guardian Angel

"Hey Harleen, its Holly…again." A voice soothed over Harleen fading in and out every once in a while. "The doctor's don't know when you'll wake up, but what do they know right? Anyway, I've brought your mail." The voice seemed to shutter a little bit as she spoke again. "…You've only been like this for a week, people wake up after years."

"Holly?" Harleen's throat felt like sandpaper as she spoke up. Attempting to swallow, she released a fitful cough and placed a hand on her neck.

"Harleen!" Arms wrapped around her shoulder's before she could even attempt to open her eyes. On doing so the intensity of the light blinded Harleen for a few moments then cleared to reveal a much worn Holly Franco. "Here," she released Harleen's shoulders and lifted a cup of water in front of her. Relieved that there was a straw Harleen drank wearily so not to get nauseous. After clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and nodded to Holly in gratitude.

"What happened? How did I get here?" Harleen asked, as soon as she was sure her throat was clear. Holly, put the water down on the small table and gave Harleen a frustrated glance before she could answer.

"I don't really know much since the police have refused to answer any questions. But this is what I've gathered from eves dropping. Apparently, they found you passed out alone in the middle of a street. Once they gave you the antidote for the toxin, they realized that someone had tied a piece of clothing around your waist, to try and stop a massive amount of bleeding from a knife wound in your stomach." Holly gestured to her waist after she finished speaking. Harleen followed her eyes and lifted up the blanket. Gauze wrappings covered her abdomen, with small traces of dark brown stains deep within it.

"You're lucky to be alive." Holly added, as Harleen looked back up at her.

"Someone tried to stop the bleeding? Did they get of glimpse of whom?" Harleen asked, as she lowered the blanket again.

"Not that I know of. Once they found you and Batman stopped the toxin from hitting the rest of the city, they brought you here. You've been unconscious for a little over a week." Harleen let it sink in, and then sprang up a little bit.

"And Arkham? What's happening at Arkham?" Holly became a little uncomfortable, and shifted slightly in her seat.

"Batman has only just started bringing patients back, the Narrow's is on high alert and the security's working like mad."

"How many from the East ward?" Harleen asked, already dreading the answer.

"He's only gotten one, Victor Zsasz." She took comfort in the fact that at least he was locked away. While nodding, Harleen looked over at the mail on Holly's lap.

"Can I?..." she asked gesturing over to the envelopes.

"Yeah of course, here you read those I'll call a nurse." After handing the letter's to Harleen, Holly left the room quickly and inquired after Harleen's doctor. Harleen flipped through the stack quickly, most were just bills she could take care of later. But one caught her eye. It's stamp was decorated with a large W.

"Bruce Wayne?" Ripping it open gently, she read the letter in a whisper to herself.

_Dr. Harleen Quinzel,_

_ It has come to my attention that certain problems have been reported in your Asylum. I'm told it has to do with a matter of money and the lack of support from the city. I have been advised to hold a benefit to Arkham in your honor. Please contact my secretary for further details._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Bruce Wayne_

_ (Dictated to Lindsey Campbell)_

"Of course," Harleen laughed to herself a little bit.

"Leave it to Bruce Wayne to think that all of these problems can be fixed with money."

* * *

"Now we all know Dr. Quinzel." Bruce Wayne's voice echoed across his penthouse in a boom that commanded attention from everyone. While speaking he guided Harleen to the front by the small of her back.

"_Gotham's Guardian Angel, _The newspapers have sure been causing a fuss. But I don't think it's fair to Dr. Quinzel to have all of that responsibility laid on her beautiful shoulders without a little help, which is why I'm throwing this shindig. I'm asking each and every one of you to help our little angel make Arkham better than it was before, so something like the Narrow's Incident never happens again. What do you say? Spare this lady a pretty penny?" Giving a charming smile, he gestured to Harleen and applause exploded toward them. Once things quieted down however people went back to their original conversations around the building, writing obscene checks with smiles on their faces as they did so.

"I can't thank you enough Mr. Wayne, you have no idea how grateful I am for this." Harleen thanked him, meaning every word.

"Please Dr. Quinzel call me Bruce, and I'm more than happy to hold this party for you. It's a very good cause." He replied, clasping her shoulder gently showing his sincerity. She smiled at him, and then squinted slightly, something about that jaw, those eyes. _What am I thinking this is Bruce Wayne, I've seen his pictures everywhere since I was a little girl. _Giving herself an imaginary slap, she thanked him again then the conversation switched.

"I heard you almost died during the incident. What happened?" Bruce asked, taking two glasses of champagne from a hired waiter. After taking one of the glasses thankfully, Harleen replied, telling him everything she had been told.

"It's a miracle someone found you." Bruce told her after she had finished.

"Absolutely." Harleen agreed. Thinking back on the incident gave her renewed feelings of curiosity, she had a suspicion of who had helped her, but didn't want to voice it.

"The real miracle is Batman, how he stopped the toxin from spreading to all of Gotham City." Harleen added, Bruce's eyes seemed to scan over the room a little uncomfortably, then he returned to her and nodded.

"It really was wasn't it? Too bad he hasn't unmasked himself yet, everyone's dying to know who he is."

"He probably suffers from Sociophobia, and definitely a Split Personality Disorder," Harleen replied, taking a large gulp of her champagne.

"If anyone needs some mental help it's him, I'd happily see him for free." She added.

Bruce Wayne laughed a little and swung his head back, taking in the rest of his champagne.

"Agreed, but If you'll excuse me I have to-"

"Go on ahead, you have lots of other guests to see." Harleen gave him one last thank you then watched him leave. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she'd meet let alone have a full conversation with the infamous Bruce Wayne.


	7. An Unexpected Diagnosis

Chapter Seven: An Unexpected Visitor

The money from Bruce Wayne's fundraiser was a godsend. Only after Harleen went through inventory, repairs, updating, remodeling, rehiring, did she understand how much it was actually needed to keep Arkham sustainable and safe.

Flinging herself into one of the couches in her office, Harleen flipped on the television to try and decompress. She hadn't slept in days, hadn't had a good night's sleep for even longer and it was beginning to show.

"Hey, you don't look so good," Holly said standing by the door with a coffee mug in hand.

"You were supposed to go home over five hours ago, Harleen you almost died once this year, don't kill yourself working now." She added, walking over to take a seat.

"Well there's still too much to get done, and by the looks of things we'll be getting more patients here soon enough." Harleen told Holly as she nodded her head in the direction of the television. The news flashed footage of the notorious "Joker" getting his face time. Holly sighed and took the remote from Harleen, with a click the TV shut down and she stood up.

"Please go home Harleen, get some sleep." With that final statement Holly left the room and Harleen rubbed her temples gently. Keeping herself busy had been the only thing keeping Harleen from thinking about what had happened, and it kept herself from sleeping which stopped the night terrors. But now it looked like the work load was simmering down a little and sleep was getting to be more and more of a necessity for her health's sake.

"Alright…" Standing up slowly, Harleen grabbed her bag and shoved some of her belongings inside. Then once she had securely locked her office door she left the building and headed towards the parking lot. The rain was coming down hard now and it was dark outside with only the street lights eliminating the lot. Harleen walked in the direction of her car, but stopped suddenly in the middle of the road when she noticed a shadow slip past a few cars.

"It's probably just a security guard…" She said out loud in the attempt to comfort herself. It didn't help however as her hand started to shake, rattling her keys as she continued to walk. The final steps were in more of a run, but as she moved her keys towards the lock a hand grabbed her's and tightened causing her to drop the keys.

"Long time no see Doctor." Harleen attempted to scream for help, but the figure's hand covered her mouth muffling the scream.

"Shh shh, no need for that." The voice was smooth and crisp. As his face entered the light, she recognized him as being her ex-colleague Jonathan Crane. He tightened his hold on her mouth and her eyes teared up with pain. Crane took this moment to pull his mask down all the way and continued.

"I just came to see how the job's treating you. Stressful isn't it? Starts to make you a little crazy…I know. But I have something to make it all better."

Harleen struggled against his now excruciating hold, but before she could attempt any kind of thought out maneuver, gas shot out from his wrist and he let go of her mouth. She collapsed to her knees, coughing and choking as it entered her lungs. By this time she could hear shouts and the sound of feet moving in her direction.

"Dr. Quinzel! Dr. Quinzel, are you alright?" It was one of the security guards, Frank Davis if Harleen remembered correctly. He patted her back gently once the gas dispersed, and called in to the building. Harleen couldn't really pay attention to what he was saying, she was waiting for the mind shredding terrors to return, but they didn't.

"Did you see where they went?" He asked once she composed herself and stood up.

"No, but I know who it was."

"Here, let's get you back in the building." Taking her arm, Frank led her into the Asylum and sat her down on one of the chairs near the reception room. Holly looked positively petrified and ran over to her immediately.

"Harleen, what happened?!"

Frank kneeled in front of Harleen, waiting for the reply.

"It was Dr. Crane…he came out of nowhere and,"

"And?" Holly asked gently.

"He infected me with something. But it's not like the last time…I feel fine aside from being a little shaken up."

"I think we should get you to the hospital." Frank said, then looked over in Holly's direction.

"I agree, you drive her down, I'll grab the things and park her car back at her apartment."

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever, Harleen kept her eyes out the window waiting for the effects of the drug to take hold. But the only thing she felt was the adrenaline from the attack continuing to run through her body.

"Ok now squeeze this for me, thank you." The doctor poked Harleen with a needle to draw her blood, then pressed a cotton ball on it and had her hold it till he got a bandage.

"I'm going to test this, then we'll know for sure what it was he had you inhale. I would like you to stay here during the process where it's safe. Feel free to sleep, you look exhausted."

After the doctor left the room, Harleen laid down on the exam table but couldn't sum up the courage to close her eyes. She watched the hands of the clock move instead.

The doctor entered again a good while later. The chart was in his hand but he was flipping through it wildly.

"I don't understand it…"

"What?" Harleen sat up instantly.

"The blood test came back clear; everything is showing absolutely normal…well besides some vitamin deficiencies."

"What?"

"Every test has come back fine…and you say you feel no symptoms?"

"None,"

"Then I guess I have no choice but to send you home. Should anything change however, I want you to come right back."

"Alright." Harleen got off of the table in utter astonishment. Had Crane been bluffing, did he just want to get under her skin? Why risk getting caught? Harleen contemplated this through the drive with Holly back to her apartment, and throughout that night as well.


End file.
